Native Dreams
by SakuraHawke
Summary: America's grandmother has come to haunt him again...
1. Chapter 1

~l~l~

"Hmm...?" Slowly, I sit up. The soft, plush leaves feel cool against my red hot hands. I look around wildly, not knowing where I am. Quiet giggles erupt from the trees around me. This forest...feels so safe, but...something is defiantly off. The giggles cut off. In the silence, I stand up. Again they come, but louder. So much so that I have to take a step back. "What is this...?" As the giggles subside once more, a gray wolf walks lamely to met me.

It sits down on its left side, leaning to stay off its assumed bad leg. It looks me directly in the eye. It's deep-golden colors reaching into my soul, consuming me from the inside out. "Hello again, little one," Her voice echos around us. It surprises me, and I stiffen up. She...

~l~l~


	2. Chapter 2

~l~l~

The greens of the forest blur in the corner of my eye, and the world around us shifts sideways. My attention is caught as we arrive back at Plymouth. Only... I turn back to the wolf to see she has vanished. Now I'm forced to watch as me, and my people, deny the first offerings of the natives...

My eyes watch blankly from my perch in the cliffs by the sea. It is a somewhat dark day; a sign that rain is to come. In the dark of the forest, a group of beings look on undesively. Deciding we are not too much of a threat, the creep slowly out of the shade. To my right, we stop our starting work. Women look up from the buckets, and men stop unloading what little cargo they have. In the crowd, I notice a young woman modestly clad in black. In her arms, a small babe is pressed firmly to her bossom. Even though I can not see the child's face, I know it to be me.

The men of the boat walk to the natives. Resting in the back by the trees, I take note of Massachusetts, once known by a different name. Her skin is darkened, and her lengthy hair is a dark raven. Her eyes, practically black, fallow 'her people' as they try to help us 'strange persons'. She turns her gaze over to where I stand, and it is almost like she can see me as well. But then she glances back to the people as mine laugh at her's face. Her face hardens, and she rises out of her tiger crouch. Her people turn away with wary looks back at us. Soon they drift back into the wood without a sound.

Then the wood of the Mayflower and the calming blues of the ocean overtake my people and swirl in turns. The wood overtakes even the ocean as it form the four main walls of an old Pennsylvanian log house. Nostalgia churns my stomach as the window forms into the peaceful scenary outside. Harrisburg doesn't look anything like this now...

~l~l~


	3. Chapter 3

~l~l~

Again, there is my men. They still look something like when they were sea born, but cleaner (in a sense), and well fed. These four men stood around a plain wooden table; a dark form sits down in the middle. He is not one of us...yet. In the far corner was a small child. He is still wearing a little white dress, but his hair is grown and cut like a boy's. He plays with a couple of loose wood chunks, rearranging them this way and that. It's great to see how much of an influence I had back then.

"I do not want write this!" The form bursts as he stands up abrutely. The four men push him back down. One forces a feather into his sweaty hand.

The one closest to him places a hand on his shoulder and leans into his ear. His words are mere whispers, but they echo within my mind. "Sir, you either sign this, or ya'll are .die. I don't know about you, but I don't like seeing little children cry. 'Specially my own,"

The Native forcefully shakes under his touch. His black-brunette hair is tied back in a long ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. He wears our clothes. I don't doubt for one secound that Pennsylvania is making the hardest decesion of his life. "Where will they go...?"

"Hm?"

"Where?"

"Oh, they'll be fine. We have a little place where they can stay. We'll take care of them,"

"It's all in this here paper," The farthest points down and taps it. Pennsylvania stares at it blankly. He can't read one word of it.

He takes a shakey breath and tightens his hold on the feather. "And this is all to keep them safe?"

"Yes'm,"

Penn shakes his head, and dips the feather's point into the ink on the tabe. In the corner, my head pops up as Pennsylvania forfeits his land to us. Officially, he has made himself a colony of the crown.

"Thank you, sir, for your time. We will come by to make sure you have evacuated the area, if that's alright?"

"Yes, that will be fine..." As Penn opens the door to leave, I notice the brown in his hair is creeping out and covering all the black left.

He is one of us now.

The men laugh and jerk over the paper. The little me decides to join in, and soon laughter takes ahold of the room. Cruelly taking over everything. My vision starts to blur black. The last thing I see is that gray wolf baying at the moon through the window.

~l~l~


	4. Chapter 4

~l~l~

"What? You want more? You can't have more!"

I slowly reopen my eyes. The air is so thick... Blurry at first, I see a group of people in the middle of an old village. I barely even recognize it. As I focus, I notice the large group of dark people with bows, spears, and torches. At the front, there is the chef. He looks anger, and he has good right to be.

"You have no chose! Either change or leave, but do not stay here!" A man yelled back. He stood in front of the crowd. Severally militia men stood behind him, guns at the ready.

I see all from the sidelines. Many of the townsfolk have already gone into their homes for safety. But I stand beside it all, just like I did back then. I turn my head to look at myself directly. Out of my dress, I work suspenders with that crisp shirt that England insisted I wore. A red string was tied at my neck. He doesn't seem to notice the future has come to haunt him, but I do not mind. I turn back to the scene at hand.

On the other side of the road I see a little girl, maybe 15, 16-ish. She stands there in a clean white dress, barefoot. Her big blue eyes shine sadly as she watches the men. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. North Carolina does not look that much different than she does now...But now she clutches a seashell to her chest. Possibly praying. Her eyes close, and small silvery globes run down her cheeks. They land pitifully on the dirt road.

Shots ring out. Screams are heard. My instinct kicks and I run across the road. "Carie-!" She's crying, but the moment I leap for her, she's gone. Everything is gone.

~l~l~


	5. Chapter 5

~l~l~

The world comes back to where it began. Leaping I land in the comforting pile of leaves I had arrived in. There soft pillowing seems to break my fall as I somersault into the woods. Kneeling, I look up into the wolf's gold once more. Just like any other time, they leave me wanting more. Yellow eyes appear and vanish in the dark outline of the forest behind her. She nods her head, and slowly three figures walk out. Five more wing them on both sides. Their eyes narrowed, they slowly dome around me.

My kneeling pose falls, and i stand on both of my knees. Then, even that seems to fall. I sit down soundly in the death of the leaves. I may be heard, but they are as quiet as the night. All thirteen of them...

"Child...How do you fare?"

I keep my mouth shut. She does not want me to answer. I know Grandmother better than that. She may not scold me for it, but it would only tense her up...

"Child...? Do you know why you're here? Do you, child?" The wolf's lips grace across her teeth, once so sharp, now dulled and some rooten. I know this is not truly her, but I do not question it.

I look around, again. My states...no. This isn't them. They are different. Barely clothed. Wild, and exotic. Rich to the point of innocence. These are not the ones that support me. Keep me whole today. These states...these are the Natives. The ones that I have killed.

Slowly, I go about naming them in my mind. Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Virginia, New York, New Hampshire, Maryland, Conneticut, Rhode Island, Delaware, New Jersey, South Carolina, Georgia...

And then there's me. The one who is always wanting more...

~l~l~


	6. Chapter 6

~l~l~

"Child..." Her clear, watery voice stays with me. On my knees, the ground shifts upwards. Air is below my feet. Two stronge arms wrap around my chest for the reins as a horse appears between my legs. Rain pours down all around us. I look back to see I am riding with Georgia, my youngest of the thirteen.

Though she is the youngest, she may as well be the oldest today. She has the body of a 13 year old, her reddish-brown hair is pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her blue eyes set above freckled cheeks are sour as she fallows the people walking before us. For a moment, I wonder how she can see where she is going, but her gaze goes right through me, so I suppose I am invisable.

I fallow her eye's path to the road before us. We ride along side the other states, and army commanders as we 'guard' the people. But in the Trail of Tears, 'guarding' really isn't the correct word. More like 'prosecuting' them...

A moan comes from one of the few horses on the trail. An old woman calls for her family. Her hair is completely white, and her skin hangs lossly on her bony frame. She will not make the trip to Oklahoma. At least, that is my first thought.

Then, a little boy comes running up to her. He holds onto her hand, and she smiles half heartedly. The boy slows his pace, but the horse is still walking. A young man comes and unwinds their hands, replacing the boy's with his own. The young boy tries to push the man away. He starts crying; his screams echo over and over. The man doesn't leave the grandmother, but he too starts to slow down. He's breaking. He breaks so much, that he falls over on the road. He double-overs with the pain, and his eyes roll up into his skull. The boy screams back at the man, but he has to keep moving forward or else he will lose the grandmother in the crowd.

Alabama moves his horse over to the body. The people go around as he heaves the man's corpse to the side of the road. There, he leaves it to rot.

"Mother..." Georgia calls softly behind me. I do not understand fully, but... For what it seems, I believe that grandmother was her. The whole of the Native American nations. Her standing is the last hope for her kind...

I look back to her, and I am shocked by how focused she is on us. Her golden eyes so much richer than her wolf's... Inside, I crave to take that richness, and I hate myself for it. I break her contact, and instead look for the front of the crowd.

Even with glasses on, my vision was never this perfect. But then, I suppose Grandmother wants me to take it all in. At the head of this misled pack rode a Sir Andrew Jackson. President of the United States of the time. He may not be the man that truley rode the head at the time, but I suppose for Grandmother, it feels like he might as well have.

I cannot see him nearby. Where was I now? Looking around violently, I search for my past self. Turning around in the saddle, I look to to see if I can see the back of the crowd. There! Riding slowly, almost lazily, was a young man. He leaned back in his saddle, obviously bored. His dirty-blonde hair was smashed down under his cowboy hat. His sky colored eyes were hazed over. This isn't exactly what I had in mind with 'relocation' as keyword.

Turning back around, I search for her. We have fallen back from her position in the crowd, though, and I can no longer find her.

A brown and white mare noses her way up beside us. Her proud rider slumpes forward as he fallows the crowded road with his eyes. Letting out a long sigh, Tennessee stretches his hands up for a moment. He has his hair cut short, kind of like mine. Only without the stubborn cowlick. Hazel eyes look back at Georgia. His entire body seems weary, even though they couldn't have been riding for over half a day.

"Another bad day...?" Her question hangs not so much as that, but a statement. Almost in the zone of fact.

Tenn nods his head in agreement. "Yeah..." He breaths. "But when isn't it when something like this comes up..." His eyes scan over the crowd again, before he drops back into position.

~l~l~


	7. Chapter 7

~l~l~

Time speeds up, and suddenly we're moving much faster than before. Wind whips at my face as we take in the new break-neck-fast pace. A hurried frenzy begins. People going from side to side. Commanders moving the dead or prodding the living. The rush moves us farther down the track. Soon, we cross the border from Arkansas to Oklahoma. The ultimate destination for us all.

Everything freezes. My breath catches as I watch the people walk ahead in their slow motion. Then, as if on a switch, it quickens again to normalcy. I start feeling nauseated from the constant time switch, but this seems like the last time as I young woman rides up to meet us.

Oklahoma's back is stiff as she circles her mare around further up on the road. Georgia kicks at our horse, and we speed up to reach her. Her charcoal-gray eyes fallow us all the while.

We slow our run to stand in front of her. She stops turning her horse, and glares at us for a moment before walking back up the route. "Okla-" Georgia tries to call out, but she stops herself when Oklahoma turns back to her.

"Yes?"

"...Never mind..." Georgia lowers her head, and it feels like she is resting on my back. She raises it again, and trots to walk next to her soon-to-be sister. I glance over to her.

She is beautiful. In every sense of the word. True to her land, she has held onto her dark black hair that hangs glossily down her back to her saddle. The front is pulled back and fixed into a long braid in the back. Only a few stray strands dare to hang near her narrowed eyes. I have always worried about her face, the way she scrunches up her eyebrows. Leading down her straight nose; her plumb lips are drawn tight. Not quiet a frown, but defiantly not a smile. She is wearing a long, tan tank that covers over her lap. Her legs are covered in dark-brown leggins, and furred boots are strapped on her feet. Absolutely beautiful...

I lower my head, just like Georgia had. It's this...This want that has done this. This is the greed and lust that had created this. But, now? Now there is NO WAY I can fix it...

"How much longer is the ride?" Georgia chirps over to Okla.

She coldly glances over at us, and returns her attention to the path. "...Not much more. We will be there near sun down," I look up toward the sky. The sun was sinking, but it was still a little way for the end. Looking back to the land, my attention is perked up again.

Just along the horizon, several bumps can be seen. Some tall, some short. All black-brown with dark skin in the center. All waiting to greet their brethren. Oklahoma also notices these bumps and her lip line turns down into that frown. She spurrs her mare into a gallop. Georgia's arms tense around me, and I can sense she is tempted to run with her. But she doesn't, and falls back to walk with the president.

Shouts are heard up ahead. The heads that were growing nearer are being pushed back. Soon, we can no longer see them in the horizon. But it doesn't last long. Our horses start to sprint. Almost like Okla wants us to get there. But that isn't right... The fences barbed tops come into visibility over the plain. Dust flies everywhere as the wind swipes along the vast land that I have taken upon myself to call my homeland. Even when it so rightly isn't.

Hands already in the reservation reach for us. Faceless people with feathers in their hair grope for us. I squeeze my eyes shut. This isn't right! This isn't what happened! Keep calm, Alfred! CALM! I open them again, but they're still there. Still grabbing. Still moaning for release. Something I feel that I can't give them, but I could if I tried.

We gather around the gate at a respectable distance. Oklahoma neatly glides off her horse like she was born to. Which she mind as well have. Georgia reroutes her horse to walk back up the lines. All with glum, but relieved faces. The track seems to be over for them. The can relax. I want to yell at them that it isn't. That this is just the start of the hell they'll go through here. But I can't. I won't. Never will I lower myself like that when Grandmother is so near...

Guards inside the fence ward off the faceless as the new ones trudge inside. I turn around despite my self awareness. Each person that treks onto the other side of the fence turns around, and joins the crowd beon the guards. Every person loses their identity as the pass by. The guards don't seem to notice. No one seems to really _notice._ Why? Why is it like this?

An old women is riding on her wagon. It's her again. _Her..._ She has three young children up in with her. Two of them don't seem to good...But she's laughing and smiling with the one in her lap. A couple of missing teeth are apparent. She flashes me a look, and waves a grubby hand my way. Proving herself, but as we cross pathes with Alabama, his eyes knit together. He makes me wonder just how many of my states really relied on her more than me...

The end of the line comes way to soon. There were a lot more than this at the beginning. _Greetings, again, America. How does it feel? These were your people just much as the new ones. So? How does it feel? To know you have mass murdered them..._ Her ghostly voice echoes in my head by the multitudes, growing louder and louder each time the horse clomps along the dirt path. Turning around, we look back at the reservation. The camp for the unwanted. _How does it feel? How does it feel? Does it feel? es it feel? It feel? feel? feel?..._

Grandmother's wagon makes it across. Her and her children. Everyone, with the blank faces starring after us, like they can see. My guards leave the camp before it closes. Only is it then that I notice they have theirs. They have never lost their face in the reserve. Not once.

Back to Grandmother, her people are helping her off the wagon. The one healthy child walks around her aimlessly as she walks closer to the fence. No one objects as she places one hand on it for balance. Her child strays to her, and grabs hold of her dress, successfully hiding behind her. Her eyes skim over all of us. Only staying place when she comes back to me. Her lips form around a distant phrase. _Gv-ge-yu-hi..._ A lonely tear streaks down her face. Her child starts pulling at her dress. She looks down at her, then back at me. _Gv-ge-yu-hi..._ Her child pulls presciently. She finally fallows her to rejoin with her fellows, but she gives us one last glance before she is enveloped around and lost forever.

~l~l~

_**Gy-ge-yu-hi = I love you.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_Cuz i didnt want to turn some people away, im leaving this warning here instead of at the summary. There is a little guy-guy loving in this chapter. If you don't want to read about that, then just accept that it was a dream, and that's all. if u don't mind, read on. u might just like it ;3_**

~l~l~

A sharp sting on my cheek, and I'm awake in a flash. I instantly sit up, and my breath...God, I can't catch my breath! Suddenly, hands weave their way around my head and I'm forced into a strange, chaste kiss. It's gone immanently, and instead a pair of emerald eyes look down into mine.

Arthur's right hand comes up and smooths away some stray hair and it sticks there. Sweat is evidently on my skin, and I feel sick and groddy. Arthur doesn't seem to care though as he studies my face. He dips down and kisses the far sides of my eyes, then back down to my mouth. Then back up to my eyes, and then once on my forehead.

Slowly he tugs my body down to his chest, and we sit like that. Him smoothing the hair way from my face, and my head snugged to his chest. Listening to his steady heart beat, while my back starts a slow ache from the awkward position. "Love...How are you?"

I choke on tears I didn't even know I was spilling. Soon I fall completely into him. He rearranges us so he's back sits up on the backrest and I can lay down with my head in his lap. I keep choking, but its not coming. Why? I won't I just break already? Can't I just break for once in my god-damned life?

There...A deep breath is taken, and I scream. I can physically feel Arthur flinch as I sob and sob and sob into his lap. Everything just falls into each other. It wasn't real! It just wasn't real! I saw what she wanted me to see. It _doesn't_ mean that it was _real. _But it doesn't matter. Why would it? It doesn't make what I didn't do hurt any less. All the should'ves start lapping together, and my brain feels like its overloading. Still, Arthur seats there. And he strokes my hair. And he stays there. And he listens. For the longest time, that is all we do. I tell him what's wrong, and he listens.

Then he purses his lips, and a quiet shush escapes his lips. This leads to a long line of sshhh's and there, theres, and oh, love's that form all together into one of the most comforting songs I've ever listened to. I try to quiet myself, and listen. My sobs go back to chokes. I try to hold back the pain in my chest that's still trying to burst, because I know it'll still be there. It'll always be there. That regret...

I hiccup at the end, and its all quiet except his song. "Oh, Love...I coming with you today..."

"No..."

"Yes,"

"No, Arthur,"

"Yes,"

"Why do you want to come?"

"Because your never going to Oklahoma alone again, git, that's why,"

~l~l~


End file.
